fighting about socks? or what??
Write a piece in which two or more characters are fighting about stupid little things, and not the real thing.
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Each week, we post a new poetry prompt and share the resulting poems in the comments section of the prompt post. You may also post the poem on your own blog and share the link in a comment.
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I said "No rain in Spain!"
ReplyDeleteHe said "It does rain in Spain..."
I said "No snow in Kokomo Ontario!"
He said "There is no Kokomo Ontario..."
I said "You can't beat the heati in Tahiti!"
He said "Heati's not a word don't be absurd..."'
We battled on the battlements
in very brief bagatelles
one serve batted back until we both
wrenched our sacroiliacs
and now we're sad sacks for having
wracked and ruined our heart attacks
though in the end no one to defend
the very fact that both parry and tack
were one friend and one friend
attempting to make a
single blend
it wasn't a battle of wits
ReplyDeleteor a fight to be won
just an opening to be heard
as silence floods the room
gazing at one another, both speak
but where does the listening begin?
she said, that shirt looks stupid.
ReplyDeletehe said, you think i look stupid?
she replied, no, the shirt IS stupid.
he replied, I'm NOT even WEARING a shirt!
she looked, and retorted, the shirt on the hanger.
he looked at the hanger, that shirt? he cried.
the blue one? he questioned.
she sighed and said sarcastically, the red one.
he huffed and said ignorantly, what red one??
she got up and walked out of the room without saying anything.
he followed her and asked, what's wrong with you tonight?
she spun in place and stared him in the eyes, what's wrong with me!? with ME!?!
*
ReplyDeletethe devil is in the details
“you KNOW i don’t drink two-percent milk,”
she said, sliding the half-gallon container
back down to his end of the kitchen island.
“what do you mean you don’t drink two percent?
i saw you put it on your cereal last weekend
when we were staying at your parents’ house.”
“we’ve been living together for two years
and you STILL don’t know what milk i like best.
i've become invisible to you, haven’t i?”
he stood transfixed amidst hurled accusations,
staring at the way her earrings caught the light
and made it dance on her exposed collarbone.
you:
ReplyDeletescraping every last bit of peanut
butter, fudge sauce, whipped cream,
sprinkles from the top of that
ice cream sundae
leaving only plain vanilla.
me:
laying my spoon down.
decisive. feeling justified –
“i’m done.”